A Shot Across the Bow
by LoriDeux
Summary: "Sometimes I'm terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts." /./ "Think about it, Hermione. Would you give a baby to Draco fucking Malfoy?" Dramione.


Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I probably don't own it. All I have is a cat to my name.

_xxx_

"_Sometimes I'm terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts."_

-Edgar Allan Poe-

-.-.-.-

She can hear the clicks of her heels as she joins the quiet ceremony, more than aware her late arrival and consequent lonely entrance managed to gain the attention of every scattered soul present.

They're all staring at her.

She takes a couple hasty steps, making sure to keep her head down and underneath her black hat and veil until she's sitting on one of the empty pews in the back rows. Her heart aches when she notices how cold and void the church feels, empty except for the two dozen or so people inside. In fact, she could have almost sworn she was early and there were still people left to arrive if it wasn't for the pastor quietly offering words of comfort and compassion as he read through the bible passages.

She's been sitting there for maybe five minutes before she can finally bring herself to tear her gaze away from her lap, and it lands on the two elegant chestnut coffins resting in the center of the church; firmly sealed to prevent anyone in attendance from catching sight of the distorted bodies inside. She thinks it's sort of fascinating how the people you love stop feeling human and become _bodies_ once they've passed away. It's almost as if the mind requires for them to cease existing in order to begin the healing process.

But they're not gone, and she still hasn't forgotten them.

Because inside of those coffins are the remains of two people she held dear, and regardless of the amount of death and destruction she has seen in her short life, soft words and solid barriers have never helped Hermione deal with loss in a quick and efficient, scientific way.

Theodore Nott and his wife, Isabel, had not been in her life for a long time, but they had both made an impact in recent years, and she had seen them both as nothing less than family. Hermione had in particularly been close to Isabel, who shared so many of the same passions as herself. She had been able to offer a shoulder to lean on for the sweet girl when her marriage to the Slytherin alumni passed through a rough patch, and in return, the two formed a friendship that rivaled that of her own with Ginny Weasly and Luna Lovegood.

And now they were both gone.

She manages to keep her emotions in control for the following thirty minutes, and it's not until she's sure the pastor is almost concluding the ceremony that a noise interrupts him, piercing through the silence, and her heart, all at the same time.

The baby is crying.

The tears stream down Hermione's face as the echo from the cry resonates in the building, bouncing off the walls in a particularly cruel manner. She listens as Luna desperately tries to coo the baby back to sleep, or at least into silence, but it's to no avail and she will not stop.

Silently, Hermione stands up from her seat and allows her feet to move her until she's standing directly in front of the blonde woman. A wave of relief and sadness, mixed with comprehension, flashes through her features as she hands over little Emily Marie Nott to the younger girl, releasing a breath when the baby almost instantly quiets down. Ignoring the look of compassion and silent understanding being sent her way by Luna's husband, Blaise Zabini, she cradles the baby in her arms and steps out of the church, leaving everyone gaping at her _audacity_.

Hermione knows what's expected of her. She's supposed to be able to hold her composure at all times, less the people begin speaking of her. She's become part of a society that has set standards and the past five years of her life have been a constant struggle to meet each and every one of those rules for them, for _him_. She knows exactly what half the people are thinking of her and her obvious display of emotions; weakness.

How very muggle of her.

Honestly, she thinks they can all go to bloody hell.

She steps out onto the church grounds and spots a tree that's far away enough for her to successfully block out the rest of the noise, and provides enough shade for the baby to not be exposed to direct sunlight. Taking brisk steps, she settles down on the grass with her back resting against the tree and finally takes a moment to carefully examine the baby girl in her arms. It's been more than two months since the last time she saw her goddaughter, and Hermione feels the guilt wash over her for basically abandoning her while she was off trying to deal with her personal life.

She notes that her sandy blonde hair, so much like Isabel's, is longer, managing to cover her hazel brown eyes. Her cheeks have begun losing their roundness, but the rosy tint to her creamy skin tone still remains. Her long eyelashes flutter as the girl stares up at her with curiosity sketched in her gaze, and Hermione can do nothing but offer her a small smile as her fingers come up to play with Emily's tiny hand.

"We'll be just fine, together, baby girl," she whispers, locking her eyes with the child's and delicately brushing away a few strands of stray locks that tickled Emily's nose.

For a brief second, Hermione wonders if this is what her own baby would look like: tiny, with a head full of blonde curls and piercing eyes. As fast as it came, she pushes the treacherous thought away, scolding herself for her utter stupidity.

All of those possibilities were gone now.

Leaning her head back, she shuts her eyes as she tries to rein herself in, mindful of the six-month old baby in her lap. She fights the tears that threaten to fall: for Emily, who will never have the chance to know or even remember truly remember her parents; for Theo and Isabel, who were both so young and full of life, and who were now both lost; for herself, and her own heartaches and shortcomings.

Her eyes are still closed but she feels when he finally sits beside her. She wants to laugh when she realizes that regardless of how much time passes, there's a very large possibility that she will always be in tune with him, and that he'll always exert a certain level of control over her. Still, she refuses to open her eyes and have to deal with him and his bollocks.

That is, until he begins speaking.

"I need you to come home."

Hermione's eyes snap open, and she turns her head so she can stare at him in disbelief. Out of all the stupidities he could've come up with, that one most certainly took the prize.

"There is no way," she refutes, anger dripping from her voice. She struggles to keep her tone low, given that Emily has finally fallen back asleep and she doesn't want to risk waking her. "After what you did, I refuse to even consider it. How do you even have the nerve to ask it of me?"

"I told you I didn't fucking do it," he snaps, his infamous temper making its appearance. He lifts his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, a nervous tick he's never been able to rid himself of, and struggles to regain his composure before the accusations start falling from his lips. "You just refuse to listen to me, like you always do, and ran off like some teenager instead."

"And I told you I didn't believe you," she retorts, lifting her chin in defiance and narrowing her eyes at him before deciding she has had enough. "This isn't the time nor place for this discussion. I didn't come back for you, I came back for Emily."

"Which is exactly why you need to listen to me now," he growled, upset over her lack of understanding. "Emily is exactly the reason why you have to come back home with me now."

Hermione whips her head back so quickly she's afraid she might have snapped her neck, but it doesn't matter because when she looks inside his stormy, gray eyes, she knows he isn't lying, and that the next words he says will most definitely shake her world. Again.

"What in Merlin's name are you going on about?"

"Theo and Isabel are dead," he starts off, softening his tone when he watches her body flinch at his bluntness. "Isabel didn't have any more family and Theo's father is in Azkaban. You and I are Emily's godparents and the only ones who can make any sort of claim over her," he reminds her, waiting for the realization to hit home in her brilliant mind.

He knows in the exact moment that it does.

Her eyes widen and her mouth drops into an O. "Do you really think the Ministry would grant you custody of her alone? A newly separated woman, with no familial ties to the girl, and who dropped off the face of the Earth for two months after she left her husband?"

"Or better yet," he sneers, contorting his handsome features to display his obvious disgust. "Me? A widely known ex-Death Eater, who's not even twenty-five yet and is just about to go through a divorce with the girl who helped save the world?"

"Think about it, Hermione. Would you give a baby to Draco _fucking_ Malfoy?"

Her world begins to crumble.

"There has to be a will or something," she starts off, desperate to come up with a solution, but he's quick to cut her off.

"There's nothing. Neither one left anything and it's all up for the authorities and social services to decide."

Just like that, she knows she's not going anywhere.

"They will never let us take custody of her on our own," Hermione admits, while still making a mental note to go through any and all related cases that might offer a means of exit in the near future. She closes her eyes and feels a knot form in her throat as she murmurs the next words. "We have to stay together."

For the first time in over two months, she meets her husband's gray eyes. She can see his anger and sorrow, and if she squints her eyes a little, she thinks she might see regret. Over what, she's not sure yet.

"It's the only way we even stand a chance. Otherwise, she might end up in a bloody orphanage and I refuse to let that happen to her."

Gathering all of her courage, Hermione nods her head before carefully lifting herself off the floor with Emily cradled in her arms. Releasing a breath she wasn't aware she was holding, she turns around to make one detail perfectly clear to her still-husband.

"I may go back to living with you and pretending that everything is alright for Emily's sake, but I haven't forgotten _anything_, and I will _not_ be your little wife anymore, Draco."

Her voice is firm and stoic, so much like his own, that all the man in question can do is curse under his breath and vow to change her mind and convince her of his innocence once she's back in their home.

He wants to argue with her. Actually, he wants to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she sees reason, but decides that it's possibly the worst rout he could take. Instead, he clenches his jaw and bites his tongue to stop his retort, leading her back to the main grounds of the church so they could apparate to their shared home.

If only it were that easy to fix all their wrongs.

_xxx_

**This is my first attempt at a Dramione fic. **

**Please review and let me know what you think! I promise things are about to get interesting! Also, let me know if you're confused about anything and I'll clear it up. **


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